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[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.] A DEAD CERTAINTY, BY NAT GOULD, I Author of "The Gentleman Rider," "The Pace That Kills," "Racecourse and Battlefield," j "The Dark Horse," "The Double Event," &c., &c. [COPYRIGHT.] CHAPTER XIII.—EXIT FROM THE GLEN. The places frequented by Henry Royston were also likely to prove attractive to such a man as Hector Bexley, and it was not long before they became acquainted. On their first introduction Hector Bexley said I have the pleasure of knowing your daughter, a charming girl, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance." From Bexley Henry Royston heard a good deal about Arthur Dunbar; much that was exag- gerated, some things only partially true. He treated my sister scandalously," said Bexley savagely, and proceeded to give his account of what Arthur Dunbar had considered a harmless flirtation. I thought I would mention it to you," said Bexley, because your daughter was rather in- clined to favour Dunbar, who considers himself a perfect lady killer." Bexley was glad to hear Henry Royston's horses were in the Glen stable. He thought it might be useful to him, and so long as he obtained in- formation he was not at all particular how he secured it. Martin Mill quickly let Arthur Dunbar know what he had discovered about Henry Royston. They met at the Sports Club, and Mill called him on one side, saying he wished to have a short private conversation. "What about?" said Arthur, smiling. "Any- thing mysterious? You are a man of many mysteries. Mill." It is rather important," replied Mill, "and it concerns Henry Royston," "Oh!" said Arthur. "What about him? I do not think you like him, but that ought not to prejudice you. For all you know to the con- trary he may be a most exemplary character." That I am sure he is not," replied Martin Mill quickly. I have found that out, if nothing e?c." Been doing & triBe in the detective line?" asked Arthur. Making inquiries," said Mill. You can call it by what name you wish, I don't mind." "And what terrible conspiracy have you dis- covered ?" Martin Mill was delighted to find Arthur Dunbar in such an amiable frame of mind; it uiad ? what he was determined to say the easier. There is no conspiracy at present," said Mill, but judging by the company Mr. Royston keeps I should not wonder if there is one before long. Who do you think is one of his constant com- panions?" Haven't the faintest idea." Hectur Bexley." Arthur Dunbar was surprised, and shewed it; and he wondered how Henry Royston had made the acquaintance of Bexley. It suddenly flashed upen him that Pat Royston knew fhe 'Bexleys, and had probably introduced him to her father, That seemed a reasonable supposition, and there- for.' not to be wondered at. Miss Royston knows the Bexleys. and has probably introduoed her father to him," said Arthur "Very likely," said Mill, and thought, "Miss Royston induced you to take her father's horses into your stable. They are working it very well amongst them, but I fancy they'll find I am equal to the tot." Tiiat is not all I have to say," went on Martin Mill. I know the Australian jockey, Tom Orford, very well." That is the man who rode two or three good, but unlucky, races for me last season?" "The same," said Mill, "and he is a reliable man. He says he rode for Royston in the colonies until it became too unsafe for him to do so in other words, he declined to pull horses for his employer. Arthur Dunbar looked serious as he answered That is a grave accusation to make. Are you sure of your iacts?" Quite. I have more than one witness, I may fHY several. And he gave the names of two or three prominent Australians who were racing in England." And do they all confirm Orford's statement?" Yes, more than confirm it—they add to it. i 1. mentioning a well-known man, "tells me The Rake's running at the last Melbourn Cup meeting was disgraceful, and that Royston ought to have been warned off had he received his deserts. Can I see any of the gentlemen you name, and also Orford?" asked Arthur. I have no doubt I can easily arrange that," said Mill. He did arrange it, and what Arthur Dunbar heard from them opened his eyes as to the true character of Henry Royston. He was sorry now he had allowed Royston'3 horses to go to the Glen. Following upon this came a faint suspicion that Pat might have been playing into her father's hands. He was angry with himself for thinking ill of Pat, but he could not banish the idea from his mind. Why had Pat been so anxious for her father's horses to be associated with his own? Was it a natural desire on her part to see her father con- nected with him in this way, or was it merely at her father's prompting she had done it? She must know what her father's character on the turf in Australia had been, and therefore what it would be likely to be here. He could not, however, expect a daughter to run down her father, or warn others against him. Sail, for all that, the fact that Pat had induced him to take Henry Royston's horses into his stabie ranked in his mind. Now that he was convinced of the true character of Henry Royston he was firmly resolved to find an excuse for having j the horses removed from the Glen. That opportunity came sooner than he expected. Henry Royston, prompted by Hector Bexley, told Arthur Dunbar he thought he was not treat- i ing him tairly. How is that?" asked Arthur. "I do not understand '-your meaning." i think there ought to be full confidence between us," said Royston. • I hope you will always be of the same mind," replied Arthur, pointedly. Whirlwind has been tried, and I knew noth- ing of the result until I saw it in the paper," said Royston. I think I ought to have been present ac the trial." "I was not," said Arthur, in his coldest manner. But you knew the trial was coming off, and could have been present had you so desired." Allow me to tell vou that you are mistaken an'd t?at Whirlwind has not been tried. It is too early in the season to try him, and Honey l8111111 a strong gallop, in which he shaped wel" Royston papers reported it as a trial," said Royston. "1 am not responsible for what appears in the replied Arthur. -I am telling you the fact.i. «\f As ?' understand them," said Royston. <. ?y not Honey have given him a trial and kept you in the da.rk!" No," said Arthur. I have every confidence in my tr?mer and he is not accustomed to under- h? and ways. I think if you have no confidence in ?tibert Honey you had better remove your horses elsewhere Let us have a thorough understand- ing, Mr. Royston. once and for all; it will save a lot of trouole. If your are not satisfied with my trainer your horses will be far better away from the Glen. I will have no interference with Gilbert Honey, because I know he is honest, and a clever man who thoroughly knows his business." Royston did not relish this, and he was losing his temper. "Do you wish me to take my horses away from the Glen ? he asked ana-riiv. Artnur Dunbar ?sitated ? few moments, and then c°°k tbo plunge" and said: Canlidly, ? think it wiU be far better if you    T am sure you will never agree Wth Gilbert Honey. Perhaps it is not altogether your fault. You are unaccustomed to his ways, and he certainly does not understand yours." I see what it is, you wish to get rid of me; and you are throwing the blame upon your tramer, said Royston. vou ? reolS^l1 ai? not ?'°? to contradict ?nder ocn? ?-- ke6PmS his temper well under control. ^'Ve me your real reason for wishing to get rid of my horses," said Royston. I have giveji you what I consider a sufficient reason," replied ?h:? "?  ? ? ??-' "It is no reason at all," said Royston. "I am surprised at your allowing your trainer to dictate to you." That I do not permit," said Arthur. But you are anxious to get rid of my horses' because your trainer wishes it." I have not consulted him in the matter, nor would he expect me to do so," said Arthur. Henry Royston laughed a short, insulting laugh of unbelief. This settled the matter with Arthur Dunbar. He could stand a good deal from Pat's father, but be would not put up with insults from »Tnr man. I think you should clearly understand, Mr. Royston, that the sooner your horses are out of the Glen stables the better I shall be pleased," he said, and then walked away, leaving Royston in a towering passion. By ——be shall pay for this," said Henry Royston to himself. "He shall know what it is to measure his skill against mine on the turf. The beggarly upstart. I'll ruin him if I get a chance. I'll find out his stable secrets, no matter what it costs me. Take my horses away indeed' I'll send Tony Crasher down to take them away, and give him carte blanche to say what he likes to Gilbert Honey or anyone else. And there's Pat. If he has any fancy for Pat, or she for him, I'll soon nip that little scheme in the bud. He'd be a desirable match, no doubt, but I'm not going to stand his cheek." Henry Royston sought consolation from his friend, Hector Bexley. The two men quickly understood each other, and neither of them were over scrupulous. Royston gave Bexley a highly- coloured account of what had taken place. Hector Bexley was sorry a crisis had occurred for he knew had Henry Royston's horses re- mained in the Glen stable there would have been an excc't'ont chance of picking up a few good things. Now that chance was gone he must try and assist Royston to have his revenge. Dunbar always was a stuck-up prig," said Bexley. I don't know but what it will be a I good thing for you after all, having the horses in a stable over which you have sole control. By Jove, I never thought of it before. I know the I very man for you. He's got a place near Lewes; and I know he's clever. His reputation has not I been very good, but there's never been anything proved against him. He would be glad to take your horses, I am sure." What's his name?" asked Royston. "James Sutcliffe," replied Bexley. "Would you like to run over and see the place?" I may as well," said Royston. I'll not leave my horses at the Glen a day longer than I can help." Henry Royston knew that when his horses left Dunbar's stables he would have a very remote chance of getting them taken in hand by any trainer who had powerful patrons. This James Sutcliffe might turn out to be the very man he wanted, and if unscrupulous would be useful to him in frustrating Henry Dunbar's plans. Henry Royston and Bexley accordingly went down to Lewee and saw James Sutcliffe. The trainer was only too glad to have the chance of getting a few horses in his numerous empty boxes. He had fallen upon evil times, and had a difficulty in making both ends meet. It was his own fault, because he had been tried and found wanting by more than one too confiding owner. It did not take James Sutcliffe long to sum up the situation when it was put before him. When Henry Royston said money was no object, but that he wished to have his horses run when, and where, and how he pleased, James Sutcliffe knew what he meant. No reason was given the trainer why the horses were leaving the Glen stables, but James Sutcliffe knew enough of Gilbert Honey to divine the cause. "Honey won't stand him, I suppose," thought Sutcliffe. Well, we haven't all got Honey's berth, and I'm willing to take the risk. If I didn't take him on I reckon someone else would. It's no good throwing a chance away. I know I have not got a very good reputation, and although I have never done anything very bad it will stick to me." Henry Royston was not long in coming to terms with Sutcliffe, and the trainer's eyes gleamed as he saw a prospect before him of making a good deal of money. "Shall I send for the horses?" he asked. No," replied Royston. I have a man I am going to send down who will give Gilbert Honey a bit of a shock. I shall want him to be here to look after The Rake; he understands the horse, and has ridden him in several races." As you please," said Sutcliffe, who did not like the idea of anyone handling the horses ex- cept himself, but thought it better to raise no objections. What do you think of him?" asked Bexley, as they returned to town. "He'll do if he's clever enough," said Henry Royston. Tony Crasher went down with a couple of James Sutcliffe's lads to bring away the horses from the Glen, and Gilbert Honey was delighted they were going. Tony Crasher was nothing loth to carry out Henry Royston's instructions, and give the trainer a bit of his mind. It's a blessed good job the horses are leaving here," said Tony, as he stood contemplating The Rake. "Why?" asked a sturdy "lad," about twenty y&ars of age, who was in The Rake's box. Because they'd have been broken down in another week or two. The Rake has geen gal- loped off his legs. Any fool can see that." You're a fool then," was the answer.  None of your cheek," said Tony. I'M not j j take it from your master, let alone you." Gilbert Honey was walking across the yard, and did not see Tony in The Rake's box. I think you got the worst of it the last time you were here," said the lad, with a broad smile. If Gilbert Honey is a specimen of an English trainer they must be a rum lot," said Tony. "What's that?" I saw your boss is an ass-and knows nothing about his business," said Tony. Got out of this!" said the lad, stepping for- ward. Tony Crasher was too much taken aback to answer, but when he recovered he said: A good horse-whip on your shoulders would do you good." "Get out of this!" said the lad again. Tony Crasher did not move. Are you going?" No. not for a bit of a thing like you," replied Tony. Before Henry Royston's representative realised what had happened he found himself sprawling full length in the yard, and the door of The Rake's box shut and locked upon him. Gilbert Honey saw the gallant Crasher, and said: You always appear to be in trouble. What is the matter now? Has The Rake kicked you out of his box? Really, I don't wonder at it." Tony Crasher picked himself up and poured a j volley of abuse at Gilbert Honey. Go out of the stable yard," said Gilbert. I'll see you first," yelled Tony. Gilbert Honey whistled, and a huge mastiff came galloping with a heavy, clumsy gait towards him. I think you had better go," said the trainer quietly, patting the dog's head. i Tony looked at the mastig and felt decidedly uncomfortable. The dog had his eyes fixed on him, and was smacking his lips in an ominous manner. Come, hurry up," said Gilbert, and the j j horses shall be sent to the station after you." Tony Crasher backed out of the yard gate, feeling he was again making an ignominious exit from the Glen. I CHAPTER XIY.-PAT'S SECRET. I I i at was troubled and uneasy; Miss Woodruff clearly saw that, and wondered what had hap- pened to cause such depression in her usually lively companion. "You are not yourself at all, Pat," she said. "You ilav6 not been well for several days. Tell me what ails you, there's a good girl. Do not be afraid to confide in your old friend, no matter what you have to tell." "It is nothing particular," replied Pat, listless- ly, and then not being able to control her feelings any longer she burst into tears, and put her head I on Helen Woodruff's shoulder. It was not a difficult matter to soothe Pat, and Miss Woodruff knew how to handle the too sensi- tive, highly-strung girl. Not many minutes passed before Pat became brighter and dashed the tears away from her eyes. "It is silly an d stupid of me to give way like thIS," she said, "but I really felt a good cry would do mo good, and it has. Do you ever cry, Woody ? I never saw you indulge in anything so unbe- coming as weeping. It makes one's eyes so red- and actually I have quite a bibulous nose." "I cried very bitterly once," said Helen Wood- ruS, calmly, "but that is all past and gone. There is only one thing in the world makes me f?el sad new. "And what is that?" "When I see you unhappy," Pat. The girl looked at her lovingly, and said "Then I shall never let you see me unhappy again," said Pat. "I am not selfish, and if I have any sorrow I will keep it to myself." "Which will be foolish," said Miss Woodruff, "But I see no reason why you should have sorrows except imaginary troubles which I think can soon be chased away. Come, tell me, Pat., what has I been the matter with you for the last few days. I daresay I shall be able to find a way out of the difficultv, no matter what it is." Pat Royston hesitated, and Miss Woodruff did not hurry her, but gave the girl time to make up her mind. "I have a secret," said Pat at last. Miss Woodruff smiled. She knew when Pat confessed to having a secret she would soon be in possession of it. "Don't smile in that. exasperating manner," said P/'t- "I really have an important secret, not one of the usual kind." "Then if it is so very important perhaps you had better keep it to yourself," said Miss Woodruff. "Now that is unkind," said Pat, "when I am burning to confide in you and ask your advice." "Which you know I am always pleased to give you, to the best of my ability." "But I am not sure whether I ought to tell you," said Pat, doubtfully. "Is it fair to impose silence upon a person, and then break that silence your- seitr "I should say it depends upon circumstances," replied Miss Woodruff. "The person who imposes the silence should be the first to break it, or give permission to do so." "Do you really think so?" asked Pat, cheerfully. "Certainly, my dear." Pat Royston gave a sigh of relief as she replied: "Then I shall hesitate no longer." Miss Woodruff composed herself to hear Pat's secret with no serious misgiving. She had heard many of Pat's secrets since they had been such close companions, and accepted and treasured the gir1'3 confidences. There had been nothing very important in them, and Miss Woodruff was not prepared for anything of a serious nature. "I have had a letter," said Pat. "I may say two letters; and I have not shewn you them." "Offence number one," said Miss Woodruff, smiling. "One is from my father and the other-the other—" "And who is the other from?" "Mr. Dunbar." Miss Woodruff looked serious. "I thought you would be shocked," said Pat, "but really it is a most commonplace epistle. Read it." She drew two letters from her pocket and handed one to her companion. It was from Arthur Dunbar, and in it he ex- plained to Pat in as mild and gentle terms as possible that he had found it impossible to keep her father's horses in the Glen stable, and that therefore Mr. Royston had taken them away. He expressed his keen regret that this had to be done, more especially as Pat had asked him to take the horses, and she knew he was always happy to oblige her, or attend to her wishes in any way. There was no word of love in the letter, but Miss Woodruff read between the lines and saw the writer had a real and strong affection for Pat "What do you think of it?" asked Pat. "I prefer to read your father's letter before giving an opinion if it refers to the matter," said Miss Woodruff. Pat Royston handed her the other letter. It was couched in far different terms from Arthur Dunbar's. Henry Royston had not spared his daughter's feelings. The man's selfish un- mannerly nature stood revealed in every line, and Miss Woodruff knew which letter had caused Pat pain. The coarseness of Royston's terms exasperated Helen Woodruff, and had Henry Royston been present he would have heard some unpleasant truths from her usually quiet tonjue. Henry Royston did not spare abuse when he alluded to Arthur Dunbar, whom he accused of all manner of iniquitous and ungentlemanly con- duct. "One thing you will have to remember," he wrote, "and that is this man has insulted me, your father, and, therefore, I forbid you to speak to him, or recognise him in any way. He shall re- pent the day he made false accusations against me, and when I have made up my mind you know I never change or deviate from the line of action I have decided to follow. It is an insult to your- self-because it was at your request he took my horses into the Glen stable. If you have any respect for yourself or for me, you must see how | utterly impossible it is to have any further con- nections with such a man. Hector Bexley has given me an insight into Dunbar's character, and I think it is lucky for you that you have not be- come attached to him in any way-as at one time I feared you might. Bexley tells me Arthur Dun- bar seriously compromised his sister and then, after they had been engaged for some months, threw her over in the most heartless manner, say- ing he had merely been flirting with her to pass the time away. Such a man is not fit to be in the society of any girl." There was more in this strain, and Miss Wood- ruff read it to the end and then handed the letter back to Pat. "It is an abominable letter," said Pat. "I don't believe a word of it." "Your father is irritated against Mr. Dunbar," replied Miss Woodruff, "and perhaps it is only natural under the circumstances, but there is no excuse for much of the language he uses." "His accusation against Mr. Dunbar is false; I am sure it is. He was never engaged to Maud Bexley. Had such been the case he would have told me when-" "Is that the secret?" said Miss Woodruff, smiling. "What comes after 'when' Pat?" Pat Royston coloured slightly as she said, "Yes, that is the secret, the most important part of it, and you must promise to keep it." "I will keep your secret if I think it is for your good to do so." "You must keep it under any circumstances," said Pat. Miss Woodruff shook her head. "But you must, Woody, or I shall not tell it you; and then you will not be able to advise me," said Pat. "Then I must give way, and promise," said Miss Woodruff. "When we were at Glen Royal Mr. Dunbar pro- posed to me," said Pat. "I am not surprised," said Miss Woodruff. "Not surprised echoed Pat in astonishment. "No, not in the least. There are not many girls like my Pat in the world, and Mr. Dunbar is an observant young man. I saw that when you were watching him salmon-fishing at Bettws. I also knew he was observant when he delivered that most excellent salmon at our cottage." Pat laughed, and Helen Woodruff was glad to hear it. t "What answer did you give him? Pat." "I said he must wait twelve months; that we had known each other only a very short time, and that perhaps his feelings might change towards me. I think I should have accepted him but for one thing, and I am glad, oh so glad, I did not do so now. "What was the reason?" asked Miss Woodruff. "Because only a short time before I had asked him to take my father's horses into the Glen stable, and he readily granted the request, for my sake. Had it not been for that I should have ac- cepted him, for I love him dearly." "Are you quite sure you love him?" asked Miss Woodruff. "Quite," replied Pat, without hesitation. Helen Woodruff sighed; she saw trouble ahead I for Pat. "You know what your father has written?" "I do not consider his commands binding upon me," said Pat. "If Mr. Dunbar wishes to see me I shall not deny him, but I shall not endeavour to i see him." "Your father will be very angry," said Miss Woodruff. 'I am not afraid of his anger when I know I am in the right." "What do you think is the real reason for your father's horses having left the Glen?" "I think Mr. Dunbar has found him out, and heard the sort of character he bears in Australia. It is this that troubles me," said Pat. "Mr. Dun- bar will think I had some motive in asking for my father's horses to be taken into the Glen stable. It was shameful of my father to ask me to do it, and still more shameful of me to accede to his re- quest. I knew at the time no good would come of it. "Mr. Dunbar is a gentleman, and he will never impute other than an honest motive, a desire to help your father, when you made such a request to him." This opinion was comforting and consoling to Pat, who replied, "I have been foolish to doubt him. You are right, Woody, as you always are. He is a gentleman, and therefore will understand why I acted as I did." "Have you replied to these letters?" "No," said Pat. "Are you going to do so?" "I will act as you think beet." "Then I should write to your father and tell him exactly how you feel in the matter. Whatever you do be open with him and shew him you are acting as you think right. Do not defy him, but merely say that if Mr. Dunbar addresses you it would be discourteous to decline to speak to him, after being a guest at Glen Royal." "And Mr. Dunbar's letter?" asked Pat. "If you desire to answer it I should do so briefly, and say you are sorry there has been any differ- ence between your father and himself." "Yes, I think that will be the best way," said Pat, cheerfully, "and I will answer the letters now. You do not think there is any truth in my father's statement that Mr. Dunbar treated Maud Bexley shamefully?" she added. "I do not think Mr. Dunbar would treat any lady as your father insinuates, but there may have been some misunderstanding between them which has been grossly exaggerated," answered Miss Woodruff. "Do you think he would have told me if he had ever been engaged to Miss Bexley?" asked Pat. "Yes, most decidedly," replied Miss Woodruff, and again Pat's face brightened. She went away to write her letters, and when Miss Woodruff was alone she thought over all she had heard and read. She knew Pat was not like other girls, and that if she was called upon to suffer she would feel it deeply—far more keenly than any ordinary mem- ber of her sex. She thought Arthur Dunbar a gentleman, but rather weak and yielding in some things, and one to be easily influenced against another. She had watched his growing liking and sympathy for Pat, and had noted his rooted objection to Henry Rovston. There was trouble ahead, she felt sure, and it must be her duty and care to shield Pat so far as lay in her power. She loved Pat dearly, and would do anything, not underhand, or unworthy, to save her pain. I She knew Henry Royston was a bad man, but she had no dread of him. Henry Woodruff had an implicit belief in the power of good to overcome evil. There might be a hard fight for it, but the result, although slow, was, she felt, sure. She was a religious woman, but did not make a parade of it, and when she went to church it was the ser- vice attracted her, not the desire to see and be seen. She had faced many trials and difficulties in her time and overcome them. Once, many years ago, she had been deceived by a man she trusted, and who had broken his vows to her, and left her for another. It was a hard, cruel, wrench to cast him out of her life, but she had done it. and that sorrowful time was now barely a bitter memory to her. But she still recollected how she had suffered, and it was this thought made her tremble for Pat. She had been able to withstand the shock; but Pat Royston was not of the same temperament, and once wounded to the quick she would probably give in, and have no strength to overcome her trial. It was not fear of Arthur Dunbar's inconstancy troubled Helen Woodruff so much as the dread of what Henry Royston might do. Pat's father demanded obedience from his daughter, although most people would have said he had forfeited all right to it. He might try and separate Pat from her, and that would be a bitter blow to both. If such a crisis happened Helen Woodruff was determined to act as she thought best for Pat, and face the consequences. She was brave enough to defy Henry Royston, if needs be, and risk all she possessed to save Pat trouble or pain. It would be easy for Pat now she had confided her secret to her, to cast aside her depression and sadness i and become her own bright self again. It was not so with Helen Woodruff. Pat had shared the secret hope of her life with her com- panion, and the elder woman knew the weight would fall the heavier upon her own shoulders. She was determined to do and daro all to secure Pat Royston's happiness, and it was well for the girl she had such a staunch friend. (To be continued.)







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